


Pulse of Destiny

by JackFettGames



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: All the children - Freeform, Gen, Introspection, Shifting perspective, The Fun Gang, The Heroes of Legend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackFettGames/pseuds/JackFettGames
Summary: The four who went on a journey, just before.
Relationships: Kris & Lancer & Ralsei & Susie (Deltarune), Kris & Lancer (Deltarune), Kris & Ralsei & Susie (Deltarune), Kris & Ralsei (Deltarune), Kris & Susie (Deltarune), Lancer & Ralsei (Deltarune), Lancer & Susie (Deltarune), Ralsei & Susie (Deltarune)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Pulse of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back with another story. This one is more of an introspective piece, shifting between perspectives, so I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you for reading!

What kept Kris awake this morning wasn’t just the turmoil in their mind. It was the physical turmoil they felt in their soul.

Not to say that their regular mental turmoil made any less substantial impact. When you gradually lose control of your body, unwillingly releasing it to some imperceptible cosmic force that, whether good or evil, most definitely did not care about the lowly human Kris— Nothing eases the pain of terror your mind suffers, not even the consistency of the downward spiral. At many points, Kris considered pretending they felt alright with it— at least ambivalent— but they discovered it difficult, perhaps impossible, to fool themself when they had no physical outlet for doing so. So the terror grew and grew into a state indistinguishable from blind rage— as blind rage is often the fruit of terror in any case— and, in its ferocity, growled to be let out of its cage.

But this new physical turmoil distinguished itself by the spark of hope it lit in the typhoon of terror and rage swirling just beneath their flesh, centered around their soul. Perhaps, with enough determination, Kris could latch onto that spark, setting their mind ablaze with such fiery energy that they could reclaim their body, purge the force that controlled them— purge it from this realm of existence, even— and, finally, feel release. Earlier, Kris might have preserved the presence of mind to realize that this release would put all the other living beings around them in danger of their rage, but a conscience becomes hard to maintain when you are not in control of your own actions.

At least Kris could still form a basic, objective description of the physical turmoil that newly plagued them. It felt like someone— not them, nor the force that controlled them— hit a single key on a piano. Except, the note made no sound, nothing that would indicate the eternal musicality of the instrument played, but a substantial thrum remained, filling the air, rubbing against Kris’s soul. This interference served as a reference point for Kris to determine that this singular piano note never ended— It was not simply a piano note, not one of many that coalesced to form a composition, but something else, the only one of its kind. The only one that could exist in this world.

Kris might have found beauty in it, as they once did of all melodies that could pour from a piano, but the thrum kept them from sleep at this indistinguishably early hour.

It wasn’t that they were completely awake and alert, either. Those traits, too, became difficult to maintain without physical processes to exercise them, and the storm inside their mind offered no assistance. Instead, they laid on the verge of sleep, the edge that defines the waking conscious and the subconscious. Kris knew that edge well, despite anyone who proclaimed it was not as well defined as Kris knew it to be. It was the peak of their torture, tantalizing them with the time that their mind could rest with the least danger of becoming permanently lost, yet denying them that rest by some final tether that, whatever they tried, refused to snap or release.

Had Kris somehow found a way to temper the growing terror within them before it came to consume their mind, they might have sensed that this want of sleep was not only a mental desire— although a strong one at that— but also a definite physical one. Consequently, they might have realised that the force which continually assumed control of them did not wish to help the thrum tether them to the conscious world. However, if Kris had the presence of mind to make that observation, they would probably have had enough to determine that despite that cursed cosmic force desiring their sleep, and despite their desire to eternally defy that force, sleep would honestly bring relief, and they would remain in this teetering situation, wanting rest but unable to reach it.

Maybe it was how destiny worked, simply removing the possibility of any other outcome in a given situation.

Either by fate or simply bad luck, Kris remained painfully awake. As their conscious mind wouldn’t relax anytime soon, Kris attempted to think of what awaited them in the physical world later that day. It was difficult— another symptom of not having a physical outlet— but Kris remembered their basic daily routine: Mom would wake them up and drive them to school. The force would sit them in their seat, and their mind would listlessly attempt to absorb the information on which Miss Alphys lectured. There might be classwork today, or homework, or even a test. After six hours, Kris would return home, and the force would somehow work on anything that needed to be done. After all that, Kris could only wait for the next day. The same routine as always, preventing Kris’s mind from emerging past the force controlling them.

The only change, their only hope, was the thrum that their soul felt.

Despite the way it tortured them.

Warm sunlight began to appear and replace the shadows on their bedroom window, drawing Kris’s torture to a peak. It now became much more apparent and troubling that they hadn’t rested the night before. Exhaustion first targeted the mind, then the body; they wouldn’t have the presence to relish the trouble the cosmic force would inevitably sustain while moving their body today. But what could they even do about it? Kris mentally sighed.

It was probably going to be a beautiful day outside, just like always. Kris was getting sick of beautiful days. They certainly couldn’t enjoy those days in any substantial way, especially not with the exhaustion that would soon plague them.

Then, at that thought, the shift occurred. It being an unfamiliar metaphysical process, Kris wasn’t able to describe it until a while later. If they had somehow thought of this description in the moment, they would have recalled the piano note and the response of their soul. Now, their soul seemed to have stopped reacting to the note, and, while the note remained eternal, Kris could no longer sense it, only knowing of its presence by their previous sensations.

And Kris definitely didn’t understand the implications of this shift, not that they would have the time to consider it. With their soul now unresponsive, the last tether holding Kris from unconsciousness disappeared, and their mind

\---

fell in scattered heaps on the floor around Ralsei. For a moment, he could only stare at the fallen books. His mind posed the undesirable idea that he was in shock, just like the heroes in those books as they faced their most dire struggles. Yet Ralsei hadn’t been struggling at all; the situation had been no more dire than grooming himself each morning, preparing for the inevitable day when the other Heroes of Legend would arrive. No, Ralsei had simply been practising his mystic capacity for levitation, using some of the less valuable books from his archives. This training, too, aimed to prepare him for his future fights as one of the Heroes of Legend, but the immediate stakes were low as of yet.

Something had interrupted Ralsei’s training, some change to the magical field permeating through the Dark World. The change didn’t feel much like the introduction of a new magical element— which would definitely be cause for alarm— but rather, it felt like something had disappeared.

Alright. What disappeared, then?

Ralsei related his perspective of the event to the feeling one gets when a tendril of some conventional material, pulled taut between two points, snaps within one’s grasp. The two severed parts of the tendril flung to the sides without warning, leaving Ralsei without any guidance for his magic. The relation wasn’t perfect— The image of grasping a tendril implied that Ralsei actively held it, when he actually paid little to no attention to the thing which disappeared prior to its disappearance— but Ralsei felt it came close enough to his sensation.

Had Ralsei known what a telephone was, he would have made a more precise comparison to a phone line being cut, but his limited perspective still allowed him to realize that a form of connection between two points sustained a sudden, slicing interruption.

However, Ralsei did not have the evidence to make any wider assumption about this interruption, so he took note of it and turned his mind to the more immediate business of his interrupted training. He must always be prepared to meet the other Heroes of Legend; destiny did not wait for the desires of mortals, and when it came, Ralsei would have to leave with the training he had. So, he considered continuing his practice of levitation, but he had also been practising this particular magical skill for over two hours. Maybe this disturbance in the magical field served as a smaller form of destiny, telling Ralsei that he should train some other aspect of his magical ability. He accepted that explanation, moving to collect the books and replace them on his shelves.

As he did so, Ralsei took another unnecessary moment to tell himself that he wasn’t slacking in any capacity, and that, in fact, he was being dutiful in practicing multiple magical skills.

Collecting all of the books in his arms, Ralsei began to walk down to the castle archives. Ralsei always liked the archives; they were vast, presenting a comprehensive array of knowledge for Ralsei to claim over his few short years of life so far. But the thing he liked most about them, despite their vastness, was the order which kept them in check. The archives held a particular sorting system— by general subject, such as history, geography, or fiction, then by the alphabet, considering their titles. This system pleased Ralsei, made him feel secure in reality, and he maintained the order perfectly, even when all the other residents of the town outside the castle disappeared.

Ralsei considered destiny in the same light— It made him feel secure in his reality, in his ultimate purpose. As long as he knew where his life would end up, he would dutifully prepare for that conclusion with all the resources at his disposal. Others decided his life for him thus far, as a prince, and rigid adherence to destiny helped Ralsei cope when all the other citizens of the town disappeared. What else could he do, but follow destiny?

Of course, Ralsei sometimes made mistakes while following that destiny, most of them involving his mistaking of other people for the other Heroes of Legend. The empty town resided in a fairly isolated location, and at first, Ralsei assumed that would mean that no one but the other Heroes of Legend would pass through it. However, passing Ruddin and Jigsawry proved that notion completely wrong, and Ralsei had to admit his disheartened state after realizing these two Darkners were actually Darkners after all, not the Lightners in disguise.

But Ralsei always regained the energy to train and prepare for the arrival of the Lightners. What else would give his life purpose?

Ralsei arrived at the archives, sliding the stack of books in his arms down upon a table. He picked up the book on the top of the stack— a typical classic tale of a Darkner guiding a Lightner through the Dark World in the distant past— and turned back, moving toward the section which held fiction. Despite this story, and those like it, not being real, Ralsei hoped to serve as the same guiding light to the Lightners when they entered the Dark for the first time. He was confident in his ability to recall the Legend, their destiny, and push them toward it, fulfilling the purpose of their lives. It would work perfectly, as it did in the stories; Ralsei was sure.

On the way to the correct shelf, Ralsei passed by a large, artfully crafted window, and he looked

\---

across the mostly empty land that made up the place beyond the large door. Lancer still felt enthusiasm— if nothing else, it allowed him another place to ride his bike, even further away from the Card Castle— but, like any child, his imagination built the place up to an impossible expectation, and he couldn’t help but feel some disappointment when this place didn’t meet that expectation. Therefore, when he felt the uncomfortable sensation of someone watching him, he assigned it to his disappointment, not to Ralsei’s glance outside of the otherwise empty castle. (Although, Ralsei didn’t fully understand the implications of what he saw, so neither of them approached the other, as destiny wished.)

Even though this place disappointed Lancer, any other place was better than the Card Castle, and the further he was from it, the better. When Lancer was younger, the castle was a vast expanse of land under his domain, and he roamed it freely, asserting his will. He would rush through the halls, strike quick conversations with all the servants— and Lesser Dad, especially Lesser Dad— and, overall, live his life to his fullest enjoyment. Well, to the extent of being generally safe, of course. His dad made sure to keep him from danger.

However, lately, the Card Castle assumed a more frigid aura, at least in Lancer’s mind. No longer would the servants respond to his advances with any reaction other than rushed acceptance— barring Lesser Dad, but Lesser Dad was already different from the others. In fact, it seemed that the default response the normal servants employed for anything was that rushed acceptance. But worst of all was the traitorous chill Lancer now felt whenever his father was in the room, pacing and judging.

The judgements were always poor, but they had to be right, because Lancer’s father made them. He had never been wrong before, when he had been protecting Lancer. No one’s father was ever wrong about his son. But the traitorous chill remained, and Lancer found it easier to bike away from the castle, avoiding his father for as long as possible. Lancer just needed to be better, and the judgements would improve, he thought.

Lancer continued to bike through the area, intent on exploration, wanting to see what the crest of the next hill revealed. Even through his disappointment, he was willing to adhere to the path on which he now rode, for this land might hide something exciting beyond its underwhelming exterior. Maybe there was an old treasure trove hidden among the rock formations ahead, waiting for him to discover it and… and bring it back to the castle, yeah! Or there would be some rebellious clowns up there— Lancer could fight and subdue them, bringing them back to the castle, to his father. His father would be proud then, surely, and Lancer could then discard the chill he felt.

Finally, the path became too uneven for even Lancer to reliably bike up it, so he hid his bike in an empty cave and scrambled up the steep sections of the path. Childhood gave him the pure will to hoist himself up these sheer walls without fear, without doubt, only with the hope of something at the top. Unfortunately, the land atop these ridges was even more barren than the land below. Lancer paused a moment; he told himself it was in disappointment yet again, but it was more likely that he needed to rest after all his exertion.

Still, even in the emptiness of this area, Lancer held hope that some enemy of his father would pass by this path, and so, after his pause, he stationed himself on a higher ridge to the side of the path. He resolved to wait a while for someone to come down the path, and his resolution was oddly strong, especially for a child. Then again, he didn’t want to return to the chill just yet, so he waited by the path for destiny.

In truth, there was one other reason Lancer had for staying on this ridge for so long— It gave him a sense of power, to look down upon where others would, presumably, normally walk. This sense of power came to Lancer rarely these days, as the chill robbed him of it in the Card Castle. However, it still held a great allure for Lancer, and if he were a little older, he might have appreciated it as the true treasure of this barren land. But he was younger, and he never questioned his father, so he remained ever vigilant as he looked

\---

down the road leading from the front door to Susie’s apartment complex. It seemed like a picture from a guidebook: not in the sense that it looked picturesque, but in the sense that Susie felt hundreds of miles away from it, inside her own mind. Even her grip on the doorframe seemed to appear from that distance, and her body rejected that paradox, attempting to pull her from the conscious world, spiriting her away to where it meant for her to be. Wherever that reality might lie.

But Susie knew that there was no other reality than this one, the one that forced her to struggle through it for fourteen years without break. Any other reality would just be a cheap and bitter slap in the face at this point. So, she kept her grip upon the doorframe, as she knew she could, as she had in the past. After a moment, she still felt the disconnect between her mind and body, but the disconnect pulled itself up back into a relatively sure conscious state. Now, she could walk to school with a reduced fear of collapsing.

Susie’s stomach grumbled as she pushed her way onto the street.

Her walk still contained a lot of swaying, the consequence of both her hunger and the divide between her mind and her body, but she had dealt with both for years. She just made the best of her situation, eating and controlling her body as best she could. And, hey, if that made her a little irritable, fine! She just had to provide for herself, not accepting any judgement, whether compliment or criticism, from anyone else. Doing anything else would wound her autonomy, so she continued to walk in hunger, unsteady.

The road to school was invariably long for Susie. It never passed by in her mind like it seemed to with the others in her class. Despite her mind being pulled far away from the road, she distinctly remembered it, and more clearly than anything in school. So, once again, Susie set off on her journey, travelling between places that didn’t care for her and for which she shouldn’t care.

A red car passed through the intersection ahead of her. For a moment, she thought it would be nice to have parents that would drive her the distance between the apartments and school, shortening it. But she quickly rejected the thought, echoing her parents’ most important lesson: It’s a waste to rely on others for something you can do yourself. Of course, her parents expected Susie to provide for herself, with travel and food and other basic necessities, and she should be able to work through life with those responsibilities. Even so, it bothered her that other students felt they needed to take a ride to school, not removing themselves from their parents into autonomy.

Even in her autonomy, in her every waking second, the Hometown school building loomed over Susie. It was a great, six hour restriction on the progression of her life, and Susie only continued to attend for two reasons: One, she did not know what else she would do with her life in Hometown other than attend school, and two, the school held the one person that she knew would provide her kindness without expecting subservience in return. Susie felt a slight smile at that thought. Despite everything, today might be a good day.

Thus, the pieces of destiny fell into their places, guiding four children from the normalcy of life to the fulfillment of a legend. The children initially resisted reacting to that destiny as intended, but by the end, they slipped into their predetermined roles. Destiny reigned supreme. And you have to wonder if that is alright.


End file.
